Chapter Text
1
The first time it happens, Zhang Hao is adamant that it's entirely a coincidence.
“I didn’t even notice.” He tells Ricky the morning after, the two of them huddled together on a bench in the University quad, sipping desperately on lukewarm coffee in a pathetic attempt to nurse their hangovers. Their 9AM class starts in five minutes and neither of them are making it in time.
Ricky scoffs at that, staring at Hao in disbelief, “You didn’t notice that the guy you were making out with for a majority of the night looks just like your best friend?”
“No. I did not.” Hao grits out, his reply curt, “And he didn’t even look that much like him.”
Except he did.
He really, really did.
It had been the first thing Hao had noticed about him, the shape of his jaw, the striking sharpness of his eyes, the sloped arch of his nose.
Lee Minho looked just like Sung Hanbin.
It was no mirror image, of course, but it was just enough for Hao to pretend.
They’d been introduced through a friend of a friend, Minho stuttering and stumbling his way through the conversation, only meeting Hao’s eye through fleeting glances. Hao had already had enough to drink by this point that his inhibitions were starting to waver, and Minho seemed just the right amount of interested.
Hao doesn’t remember what sparked the initial kiss, but he’s sure that the two of them had been flirting for a good while before they finally gave in, lips meeting lips.
The rest of the night plays out in a misty haze.
Minho isn't nearly as tall as Hanbin, which Hao combats by making sure they are either seated or lying down for the majority of the night. His shoulders aren’t quite as broad as Hanbin’s, so Hao purposefully keeps his hands to Minho’s neck or lower back. Minho certainly doesn’t sound like Hanbin, so Hao doesn’t stray away from his mouth long enough to let him speak.
The two of them end up stumbling into a bathroom at some point during the night, Minho locking the door behind them as Hao pauses to catch his breath against the shower door, a winded laugh escaping him.
Something in that moment shatters the illusion.
Under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, Zhang Hao stares at Lee Minho properly for perhaps the first time that night. Hao feels his smile drop, an ugly sensation bubbling low in his stomach, watching as Minho grows awkwardly stiff in the sudden change of atmosphere.
“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice painstakingly unfamiliar.
“Yeah.” Hao coughs up, “Sorry, I think the adrenaline has just crashed, give me a moment.”
Minho continues to watch him with uncertain eyes but Hao can no longer bear to look at him.
The two of them remain there in that heavy silence for a good few minutes before Hao finally whispers, “I think I need to go home.”
Minho doesn't get the chance to get another word out before Hao is pushing past him, practically collapsing out of the bathroom and beelining it for the front door, shoving his way through the hoards of people on his way out.
He doesn’t look back.
It’s only when he returns home to the shared apartment at long past 2AM that the guilt really settles in, because bundled up on the sofa waiting for him is Sung Hanbin himself. All the lights in the apartment are off and he’s wearing his pyjamas, a blanket draped over his shoulders, eyes heavy with both exhaustion and worry as he watches Hao try to creep inside unnoticed.
“I thought you’d be asleep.” He tells him, struggling to toe his shoes off as he makes a conscious effort not to slur his words.
Hanbin rises from the sofa almost in an instant, abandoning whatever he had been watching on the TV to keep himself awake, “I was waiting for you. I kept calling you but it went straight to voicemail.” He tells him, kneeling down to help Hao take his shoes off, “Here, I’ll help you wash up.”
“Hanbin, you didn’t have to stay up for me. You’ve got class in the morning.” Hao stares at him helplessly as Hanbin appears at eye level again, his hands nudging at the sleeves of Hao’s jacket, motioning for him to take it off.
Hao’s eyes never once leave Hanbin’s face, taking in his features like a man starved. He’d been crazy to ever think that anyone could ever be a viable substitute for this.
“I was worried.” Hanbin whispers, lacing his fingers around Hao’s forearm to lead him towards the bathroom, “Go ahead and wash up, I’ll get you some water and clean clothes.”
Hao obliges, stumbling into the bathroom with heavy feet, forgetting to turn the light on even as he blindly searches for his toothbrush. The first thing he wants to do is get rid of the bitter taste of alcohol (and a stranger’s lips) off of his tongue.
He showers in the dark, the water cold against his heated skin, rinsing off the lingering scent of Minho’s cologne with what Hao only later realises is Hanbin’s body wash. He finds a change of clothes folded neatly on the closed toilet lid once he finishes up, a white t-shirt and pyjama pants, still warm from the dryer.
He puts them on in a daze, quietly exiting the bathroom to find Hanbin still waiting for him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he silently offers Hao some water and a pre-emptive painkiller.
“Thank you.” He says, voice barely above a whisper as his hands circle the glass, “You didn’t have to do all this.”
Hanbin smiles again, this time it meets his eyes, “Of course I did.” He says, reaching up to cup Hao’s cheek for a brief moment, a gentle caress, “Now get to bed. I’ve shut your curtains and un-made your bed for you, so just get to sleep.”
Hao shuffles his feet towards his room and stops in the open doorway to wish Hanbin a good night, which Hanbin returns earnestly. It’s not until Hao is already tucked up beneath the covers, a painkiller in his system, eyes fluttering shut, that he hears Hanbin’s own bedroom door finally click shut, the apartment falling into a comfortable silence.
Distantly, Zhang Hao thinks about how no one else would ever have done this for him.
2
The second time it happens, there is no more room for plausible deniability.
Because this time, the resemblance truly is uncanny.
Hao meets Kim Doyoung during the preparations for their University’s winter concert and things quickly spiral from there. The two share little in common other than their passion for music, but Doyoung is easy to talk to and a good distraction from the overarching pressure (as well as being particularly easy on the eyes) so they slip into an easy friendship.
They’ve only been given a month to prepare their pieces to perfection, and Hao spends a majority of this time playing and re-playing the same section until he starts hearing it in his sleep. He and Doyoung have both been given leading parts in the grand closing performance of the show, Hao having a lengthy violin solo and Doyoung being the main vocalist of the entire piece, so it was initially out of convenience that they started practising together.
“I think I could listen to you play forever.” Doyoung tells him that very first day, lingering in the open doorway of what Hao had believed was an empty classroom.
Zhang Hao has heard those exact words before from a pair of very similar lips.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone else would be in here.” Hao startles, “I hope I’m not interrupting your practice.”
Something new sparkles behind Doyoung’s eyes as his gaze lingers on Hao, “Not at all. It’s been a pleasure.” He says, “Would you be open to practising together? I always find it helpful to have an extra listening ear.”
Hao lets himself openly take in the man in front of him before smiling, “Sure. I’d like that.”
And from there on, Hao and Doyoung spend their evenings together. Sometimes they practise for hours on end with little to no words exchanged between them, sometimes Doyoung brings along takeout for two and insists that Hao eats with him, and sometimes they abandon all responsibilities and just chatter away.
It’s during these illusive talks that Hao first really notices the strange buzzing energy between them.
Doyoung will make a comment, one that just barely teeters over the edge of friendly, an open invitation. Hao responds with a coy, knowing smile, sometimes even an equally risky remark of his own.
It’s fun, and easy, and just the perfect distraction from the looming date of the upcoming winter concert.
There are times when Hao gets so caught up in his music that Doyoung’s silhouette, which he can just barely see in his peripheral vision, and Hanbin, who lives ever present in his mind, blur into one.
“Hanbin, does this sound off to you?” He blurts out one day, the words escaping him before he gets the chance to think them over, too caught up in his own head.
A beat of silence passes, and then another.
Hao looks up to where Doyoung is standing, his face set in an unreadable expression, not saying anything. He blinks and suddenly his words catch up with him.
“Oh!” He quickly backtracks, eyes wide as he has to force himself not to slam a hand over his mouth, “I’m so sorry, ‘Hanbin’ is my best friend's name. Usually when I’m working on a piece of music, he helps me out. Force of habit…”
Doyoung remains quiet for a moment longer, but then opens his mouth to speak.
“And you kind of look alike.” Hao adds on in the last second, and internally cringes at the admission. Maybe he should have kept that bit to himself. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry, it just surprised me.” Doyoung waves a hand in dismissal, but there’s still something distinctly off about his tone, “Is he helping you out with this showcase, too?”
Strangely, Hao cannot tell if Doyoung is merely trying to make conversation or if there’s an ulterior motive to this surprisingly loaded question. He gives him the benefit of the doubt.
“No, but he did offer.” Hao chuckles, returning his focus to his violin, absentmindedly adjusting one of the tuning pegs, “He and my parents are coming to watch the concert together, and I thought it’d be a nice surprise if they came into it blind. It kind of ruins the magic when you’ve heard me playing the piece on repeat for weeks, you know?”
Doyoung hums but says nothing more, the two of them returning to their individual practice.
Neither of them mention Hanbin again.
The night before the winter concert rushes by in a frenzy of excitement, frustration, and poorly held back tears. For hours now, he and Doyoung have been running through some very last minute corrections to make sure everything is perfect. Hao has played every possible scenario through his head, imagining each and every way the whole night could end catastrophically. Realistically, he knows that everything will be fine.
He’s practised too god damn hard for it to be anything but fine.
“Don’t get yourself so worked up.” Doyoung tells him through a chuckle, sidling up beside Hao and bumping their shoulders together, a warm smile gracing his features.
Hao musters one of his own, sighing, “That’s easy for you to say. You’ll be perfect.”
It’s only now that Hao realises just how close Doyoung has gotten, turning his head to face him only to find that he’s only a mere breath away. He looks different up close, still strikingly handsome, but different nonetheless.
“You always shine on stage.” Doyoung tells him, and Hao can feel the warmth of the words on his skin, “I’ve seen you perform before, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.”
Hao raises his eyebrows in surprise, inching closer like he’s daring Doyoung to do something, “You watch me?”
“I just can’t help myself.”
Hao doesn’t even notice the brush of lips against his until after the sensation is already gone. And the feeling that replaces that pleasant tingling is one of pure dread.
He’s gone and done it again.
Perfectly on cue, Hao’s phone begins buzzing in his back pocket, startling him out of the strange trance he’d fallen into. Doyoung moves away ever so slightly to allow Hao to fish the phone out of his jeans, watching as the screen lights up in Hao’s hand.
Hanbin. 12:14AM.
“Fuck, we should have locked up hours ago.” Hao springs into action, forcibly putting space between himself and Doyoung as he rushes to pack his violin away and grab his backpack, “I promised Hanbin I’d be back earlier so we could order dinner together.”
“I’m sure he’d understand.” Doyoung tries, but his words seem to fall upon deaf ears.
Hao is already calling Hanbin back, halfway towards the door. “He worries.” Is all he provides in explanation, waving a hand in Doyoung’s general direction just as Hanbin picks up.
“Hey! I’m so sorry, I’m on my way home now.” He says into the phone, a grin subconsciously making its way onto his lips as he turns and exits the classroom without another word.
He doesn’t look back to see the light in Doyoung’s eyes grow dim.
The entirety of the evening running up to the final showcase, Hao makes sure to pointedly avoid Doyoung. He keeps himself busy, busy busy: practising his piece, talking to other performers, even just walking around the backstage area aimlessly in a way he hopes appears purposeful.
It seems to work just well enough as Hao doesn’t actually see Doyoung until they’re both on stage together, standing amidst an array of others who’d be performing alongside them. Even so, Hao completely forgets of Doyoung’s existence once he spots Sung Hanbin in the crowd, beaming at him from the audience.
He’s sitting beside Hao’s parents, who lean in to whisper something to him once Hao meets their eye, proud smiles on all three of their faces.
They vanish from view as the stage lights up, but Hao knows they are there and he plays for them .
And play he does, almost mechanical in his technique, but so painfully soulful and passionate that even he himself cannot hold back a smile as his solo comes to a close, the rest of the orchestra re-joining the piece in one last, grand symphony. Distantly, Hao hears Doyoung’s voice over the instruments, but his words sound unclear as Hao’s attention lingers elsewhere,
The round of applause they receive is like no other.
Backstage is always a mess following a concert, everyone rushing around trying to pack up their equipment and head home. Zhang Hao has mastered slipping out quickly over the years, and finds himself one of the first out, catching Hanbin and his parents waiting for him in the wings.
“Oh, you were just beautiful up there!” Is the first thing his mother exclaims, pulling Hao into a warm hug. His dad quickly follows suit, a proud crinkle to his eyes that Hao has always loved.
They don’t chatter for long as Hao’s parents have already stayed up late enough by their standards, but they make Hao promise to visit and call more often before pulling both him and Hanbin into a hug before leaving the concert hall. Hao and Hanbin watch them go with matching fond smiles, waving them off as they turn back for one final goodbye before disappearing from sight.
“Well.” Hanbin finally turns to him, and Hao keens under his sole attention, “That was quite the performance.”
“You liked it?” Hao beams, leaning forward expectantly.
Hanbin bows his head in what can only be described as pure wonder, “I loved it. You’re magical when you’re up on stage, you know that right? It’s like that spotlight was made just for you.”
A flattered flush settles across Hao’s cheeks as he nudges at Hanbin’s arm, knocking their shoulders together as he begins to guide them towards the exit, “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I’m in awe of everything you do.” Hanbin blurts out, almost like he hadn’t quite meant to say the words aloud. Hao simply laughs, ducking his head and hoping his reddening cheeks aren’t as obvious as they feel.
The two of them slowly wander through the parking lot towards Hanbin’s silver sedan, sides pressed together to aid against the night’s biting wind. At some point, without Hao even really noticing, Hanbin’s jacket has been strewn across his shoulders and his violin case has been taken from his hands, Hanbin silently offering to carry it for him.
Just as they reach the car, Hanbin moving to open the passenger side door for Hao, a voice calling out Zhang Hao’s name catches their attention.
“Doyoung?” Hao turns in surprise, watching in slight horror as the familiar figure picks up the pace to catch up with them.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Doyoung huffs, clutching onto his side as he comes to a stop directly in front of Hao, “You disappeared straight after the show finished. I was meaning to ask you something.”
Hao shuffles awkwardly on his feet, already suspecting where this conversation may be headed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to keep my parents waiting.” He says, sheepish, “What did you want to ask?”
Doyoung pauses a moment, visibly thinking over his words, and yet when he speaks, it still comes out jumbled and unsure, “Would you- Perhaps…” He starts, “Could I take you out on a date? Maybe? Only if you’re interested, of course.”
Ah. Just as expected.
Hao fiddles awkwardly with the hem of the jacket on his shoulders, avoiding Doyoung’s eye, “Doyoung, I,” He tries, but it seems that his message has reached Doyoung loud and clear, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
“No, no it’s okay!” He interrupts, “I’m glad I at least tried. Thank you for being honest.”
An awkward silence settles over them where neither says anything.
“Well,” Doyoung coughs, "I should get going. You were incredible out there.”
Just as Hao thinks he can let out a sigh of relief and be rid of this whole lookalike business, he catches Doyoung’s gaze trail off towards something behind him. His eyes land on Hanbin.
Hao watches in real time as Doyoung’s face falls.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were here.” Doyoung is quick to apologise, but there’s something distinctively distant about his tone.
Hanbin waves off his apology, visibly embarrassed, “No, it’s my bad.” He says, polite as ever, “I would have given you some privacy if I had known.”
Doyoung turns back to Hao with a hesitant frown, “Is this?”
“Hanbin.” Hao finishes for him, pointedly keeping his gaze down.
“Oh…” He whispers, a quiet realisation that Hao probably wasn’t supposed to hear.
“I'm sorry.” Is once again all that Hao can say, like a broken record, as Doyoung offers him one final tight lipped smile and a stiff wave goodbye, turning away and striding back towards the concert hall.
Hanbin breaks the uneasy tension with an awkward cough, opening the passenger door for Hao to climb in, “Let’s go home?”
“Please.”
The ride home is void of conversation, the thing breaking the heavy silence being the hum of the engine and the quiet beat of whatever playlist Hanbin had put on in the background. Hao keeps his face turned towards the window, but his right hand lays near the gearstick, tapping aimlessly.
Hanbin taps a gentle finger against the back of Hao’s hand, catching his attention.
“You didn’t reject him just because I was there, right?” He asks, voice uncharacteristically nervous, “I don’t want to have ruined anything between the two of you.”
Hao quickly turns his whole body to face him, surprised, “No, of course not.” He says, “It was nothing serious.”
Hanbin hums, “Okay. Good.” There's another long silence before Hanbin speaks again, but at least Hao isn’t facing away from him now, “He was the lead vocalist of the concert, right? He was good.”
“Yeah, he was.” Hao sighs loudly, unsure as to why Hanbin is even keeping this topic up, “We would practise together, you know, since we both had such major roles? It was helpful. He was nice.”
“Just nice?” Hanbin chuckles, but Hao catches the way his hands clench around the steering wheel. Strange…
“Just nice.” Hao reaffirms with a genuine laugh of his own, “I prefer your company, anyway. You’re a much better practice partner.”
The smile that graces Hanbin’s face is worth any ounce of embarrassment Hao had faced tonight.
3
Now, the third time it happens, Zhang Hao doesn’t even realise .
Which is arguably worse, only confirming that this whole thing is entirely subconscious.
Choi Soobin is nice, and sweet, and charming, and someone that Hao can truly see himself liking. He’s different in the sense that there are no stand-out similarities.
The two of them have always been friendly, knowing each other through some distant mutual friend, but Hao can’t quite pinpoint when the coincidental run-ins became planned meetups or when their once infrequent texts became a commodity. Soobin has always been particularly lovely, even more so one-on-one, and Hao quickly finds himself slipping into an easy friendship.
Soobin certainly doesn’t feel like some temporary rebound, or like a fill-in, because he’s just different enough that the likeness seems to slip past Hao completely.
(And if his red, hot ears are anything to go by, Soobin’s interest in Hao definitely goes beyond mere friendship.)
Things seem to be going smoothly for them until one fateful afternoon, and it is entirely the fault of none other than Kim Gyuvin.
Hao, Gyuvin, Hanbin, and Ricky have made a habit out of spending their free Friday afternoons studying together in a cafe located just outside of campus. Well, Hao’s not sure if you can quite call it studying anymore considering the fact that none of them have gotten anything done in weeks, but Gyuvin is adamant that if he leaves his textbook open on the table, he’ll end up absorbing at least some of the information via some form of diffusion.
They’re seated towards the front of the cafe, directly next to the wall of windows onlooking the street. Ricky has been noticeably zoned out of the conversation for a good few minutes now, watching as strangers wander past.
“Hey,” He pipes up, probably interrupting someone, “Is that Soobin?”
The three others turn to look towards where Ricky is pointing, Gyuvin practically clambering over the table to catch a glimpse.
Hao sinks down in his seat, an embarrassed blush beginning to tint his cheeks. It’s only recently that Hao has started mentioning Soobin to his friends, and while it may only be small things like showing them a photo or letting them know that he’s hanging out with him, it’s enough that they know that something is likely to be going on.
Gyuvin finally catches onto which person Ricky is talking about and blurts out, “Hao, you should introduce us!” before beginning to exaggeratedly wave out the window to catch Soobin’s attention. Hao shifts to stop him, but finds that he is a moment too late, as Soobin has already caught sight of the mass of movement and is staring directly at them.
Great.
Hao shoots him what he hopes is a convincing smile through the glass as Gyuvin begins to gesture to him to come inside. Soobin, being the polite soul that he is, awkwardly shuffles into the cafe.
“Soobin, hey.” Hao smiles up at him as Soobin arrives with a small wave, standing in the gap between Hao and Hanbin’s chairs, “I hope we’re not interrupting.”
Soobin brushes off Hao’s apology, “Not at all. It’s nice to meet you all, I’m assuming you’re all Hao’s friends?”
Ricky speaks up with a smile, mischief sparkling in his eyes, “Yeah, we are. I’m Ricky, this is Gyuvin, and right beside you is Hanbin.”
Hao watches, a little reluctant, as Soobin takes all of them in. It’s always a strange experience introducing someone you could be interested in to your friends. What Hao finds even more strange, however, is the way that Gyuvin’s eyes have very obviously been flicking from Soobin, to Hanbin, and back to Soobin again since the moment Soobin stepped through the cafe door.
“I’ve heard so much about you all,” Soobin says, “What are you all doing here, anyway?”
They all chatter for a short while, and any worries that Hao may have had seem to wash away as the conversation continues to flow. He even watches Hanbin and Soobin talk and interact without that usual gut-wrenching nausea he’s gotten so used to in situations like this. He really believes that this may be the road to something new, something better than whatever duplicitous game he’d been playing recently.
That is until Soobin eventually says his goodbyes and the first thing that comes out of Gyuvin’s mouth when he goes is “Doesn’t he remind you guys so much of Hanbin?”
Hao’s world doesn’t just come to a stop in that moment, it swerves and crashes head first into a wall of steel, promptly combusting into a raging ball of flames.
“What?” Is all he manages to say, trying to disguise the crack in his voice with a stiff laugh.
Ricky meets his eye from across the table, a knowing smile on his face, “I thought so too.”
Hao remains silent, unable to speak, as all eyes turn expectantly to Hanbin. He looks between them with wide eyes, as if to say “Who, me?” , but Zhang Hao knows better. He knows Hanbin, knows every slight change in his expression, in his tone, and he knows that Hanbin knows.
Here comes that dreaded sickly feeling that Hao had just been so sure he’d escaped from.
“Really? I didn’t notice anything.” Hanbin chuckles, and really, who is he kidding?
Hao remains suspiciously quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
It’s not until he and Hanbin have stepped through the front door of their apartment, slipping their shoes and coats off, that Hanbin makes a comment. “You have a type then, huh?” He says, and Hao knows that he’s just teasing, but he still has to hold himself back from physically choking at the jolt that just hammered through his chest.
“Shut up, it’s not funny.” Hao bites back, hoping it comes across as jokey and unserious, like he’s just teasing Hanbin right back.
Luckily, Hanbin knows Hao in all the same ways that Hao knows Hanbin, and he doesn’t take offence. “It’s okay,” He says instead, brushing their shoulders together in what should have been a comforting manner, but the shockwaves that run across Hao’s skin tell another story, “I get it.”
But Hanbin doesn’t get it. He can’t get it,
He can’t get, or understand, or know the ways that Zhang Hao searches for him in every person he meets. For his eyes, his laugh, his voice, his character, Hao looks for them in everyone, trying to compensate for what he cannot have.
But Hao knows deep down that he will never find it.
Not in anyone else, at least.
4
The fourth time it happens, it's a means of distraction, because Sung Hanbin has been acting differently as of late.
He’s been closer, touchier, taking up any and all of Hao’s space at every given opportunity. He’s been more deliberate with his words, ever so teasing, pairing his usual compliments with a wandering eye, trailing up and down Hao’s frame. If Hao didn’t know any better, he might even say that Hanbin has been flirting with him.
But Hao does know better, so he doesn’t let himself toy with that possibility.
However, with this sudden influx of Hanbin in his senses, Zhang Hao begins to get understandably… restless.
The thrum of energy that has been simmering in Hao’s veins recently isn’t easy to contain or suppress. It leaves his fingers fidgeting with the need to touch, to grab, to take, anything and everything that Hanbin has to offer him, and yet he cannot allow himself. He holds himself back, albeit a bit forcibly, and that energy remains buzzing under his skin.
Until Jung Sungchan enters the picture.
Things with Sungchan are easy, coming with the added bonus of neither of them having to pretend that anything serious will ever come of this. They meet up, make out, sometimes go a little further, and then part ways with a comfortable smile and no lingering attachments.
The second time they’d met up, Sungchan had pulled away before anything could get too heated and asked, “There are no feelings here, right?” and Hao had answered with a simple, “Of course not.”
See? Easy.
From what Hao has gathered, he is the rebound. Which is fine, because Sungchan is the distraction.
It also helps that Jung Sungchan quite strongly resembles a certain someone.
From the crinkle of his cheeks when he smiles, to the broad line of his shoulders, Sungchan is as good of a lookalike as any and this time, Hao allows himself to indulge in the knowledge that Sungchan shares so many of his desired features.
The relief that Hao feels now that he has someone to let out all of his pent up energy with is indescribable, and also makes things with Hanbin a whole lot easier, because no longer is Hao zoning out in the middle of conversations with him because he’s too busy thinking about what it’d feel like to kiss him breathless.
Well, he still thinks about those things, but now he’s at least able to contain those thoughts to the privacy of his bedroom.
Sungchan is a good kisser and is careful not to leave any physical reminders of their encounters on Hao’s skin, which becomes helpful when Hanbin starts growing suspicious.
It’s late one evening when Hao is returning from Sungchan’s house that he finds Hanbin loitering in the kitchen with seemingly no aim. “What are you doing in here?” He asks him, chuckling gently as he opens the fridge in search of a can of soda.
“Just looking.” Hanbin trails off, eyes firmly set on Hao as he reaches forward to let his fingers linger on Hao’s forearm, “Where’ve you been?”
Hao lets himself be dragged away from the fridge, soda forgotten as Hanbin pulls him into a weak hug, arms wrapped lazily around him, “I’ve been with a friend.”
Hanbin hums a long moment, brushing his cheek against Hao’s ever so briefly, leaving heat in his wake, “You should tell your friend to buy better cologne.” Hanbin says, turning to brush his nose against the skin beside Hao’s ear before stalking out of the kitchen.
Hao hears his bedroom door click shut behind him, and remains stock-still in the kitchen for several more minutes.
Sungchan never questions Hao’s reasons for this no-strings-attached situation they have going on, which Hao is particularly appreciative of, but one day he whispers, “Why me?” between kisses.
Hao responds eagerly, the words leaving him like a prayer, “Because you look just like him.”
It feels nice to finally say it aloud, to finally add weight to the truth that he’d already understood and accepted so long ago. Sungchan doesn’t recoil in disgust, or horror, instead he just keeps kissing as if Hao hadn’t just admitted something to him that he’d never been able to voice before.
Things with Sungchan are easy but both of them are well aware that it’s not a permanent fix.
After two or so months, Sungchan rekindles things with the ex that Hao had been the rebound of and contact between them deteriorates completely. Hao doesn’t feel much of anything when the text message comes through about the two of them cutting things off, but his first thought is “How am I supposed to cope now?”
He manages… Just barely.
A few weeks after Hao and Sungchan had stopped seeing each other, Hao is scrolling lazily through his phone on the living room couch, a movie of some sort playing on the TV to act as background noise. He doesn't notice that Hanbin has entered the room until a head of familiar hair settles on his lap, a pretty smile beaming up at him.
Hanbin’s been happier these days, Hao has noticed, less uptight and jumpy.
“So,” He starts, pushing Hao’s phone aside to ensure that his full attention is on him, “Care to tell me who he was?”
Hao stares down at him with a furrowed brow, “Who who was?”
“The guy you were seeing for a little while.” Hanbin says, still smiling, “Don’t think I didn’t catch onto that, by the way.”
“Oh.” Is the only word that manages to escape Hao’s lips for a moment, “It wasn’t anything serious. His name was Sungchan.”
Hanbin’s eyes light up in recognition but something foreign flashes over them just seconds later, the expression vanishing before Hao has the chance to work out quite what it means, “Jung Sungchan?” Hanbin asks, saying the words slowly like the question has some deeper, profound meaning.
“Uh… Yeah.” Hao says, suddenly unable to hold eye contact, “You know him?”
Hanbin hums in confirmation, “We share a class.” He says, “But things are over between you two now?”
Hao nods, looking back down to find Hanbin smiling even wider, like the answer that Hao had given him was the correct answer to his previous discerning question. They stare at one another a moment before Hanbin reaches up to tap Hao’s chin, eliciting an involuntary chuckle out of him.
“Let’s order takeout.” Hanbin suggests, a complete change of topic, and rises up from Hao’s lap to grab his phone, “We can have a movie night, whatever you wanna watch. I’ll drag some blankets in from my room.”
Hao blinks at him, surprised, “Okay. Sure.”
The twinkle in Hanbin's eye tells Hao that he’s happy about something a little outside the realm of a mere movie night, but he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, fearing he may reach conclusions that simply aren’t set in reality.
5
The fifth time, Hao is just getting desperate.
If he’d thought that Hanbin was acting strangely before, it’s now reached a whole other level.
He’s always there, right in Hao’s space, a warm thigh pressed against his, a finger tracing patterns against his palm, lips brushing against his ear as Hanbin leans in to whisper something, even if no one else is around. Hanbin begins to take up all of Hao’s senses, making his vision blur over and his ears ring momentarily after every fleeting touch.
It’s ridiculous, embarrassing even, the way Hao lays awake at night, fingers gripping at his sheets with the intense need to barge into Hanbin’s bedroom and touch for himself - because Zhang Hao has not been letting himself reciprocate.
He doesn’t pull away, by any means, but he stops himself from instinctively reaching out, from lacing his fingers with Hanbin’s when their hands inevitably brush, from indulging , because as much as Hao dreams and wishes that these moments mean something more, the possibility that Hanbin is just being friendly eats him alive. He can’t betray Hanbin’s trust like that, he can’t let himself pretend.
It will only end in the two of them both getting hurt.
Which is why when Matthew’s birthday rolls around, Hao only has two plans for the night: get shit-faced drunk, and fuck someone.
Preferably someone around his height with dark hair and shining eyes, maybe even someone with a lilting laugh and sharp collarbones.
Matthew always celebrates his birthday with a huge party, inviting anyone and everyone, meaning that the likelihood of finding someone who meets Hao’s suspiciously specific criteria should be relatively easy. However, it also means that Hanbin will be there… Which complicates things.
It’s rare that Hao and Hanbin ever go out drinking together because Hanbin had sworn off drinking during their first year of University when he woke up on a stranger’s kitchen counter soaked in what must have been a mix of vodka and fruit juice. He still drinks occasionally of course, but he avoids parties out of his own sheer embarrassment.
He’ll make an exception for Matthew though, considering that the two of them have been close friends since their childhood.
Hanbin knocks on Hao’s door just as he finishes up belting his pants, sticking his head inside with a small smile. He’s already fully dressed, his hair styled so that it displays his forehead, framing his face to what Hao can only describe as perfection.
“You look great.” He blurts out, to which Hanbin beams, flushing at the flattery.
“And you always look great.” He offers in return, slipping inside Hao’s bedroom fully, “I tried doing my hair, but I imagine it’ll end up a mess within the first twenty minutes.”
Hao has always loved Hanbin with dishevelled hair, but he doesn’t need to tell him that.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” He says instead, “We should probably get going, Ricky texted me like ten minutes ago to let me know that he and Gyuvin are already at Matthew’s.”
Hanbin nods quickly and holds the door for Hao, the two of them shuffling into the main room of the apartment to slip on their shoes and gather up the last of their belongings. Hanbin offers to drive them as he has no intention of drinking, and Hao is always happy to oblige.
Matthew only lives around ten minutes away, so they arrive quickly and find the house already bustling with partygoers, the blaring music audible even from where Hanbin has parked outside.
“I need a drink.” Is the first thing Hao says as the two of them make their way inside, striding forwards and away from Hanbin’s touch that had been searing into his lower back. Hao had decided to wear a sweater that just verges on being cropped, and Hao can’t tell if the way that Hanbin’s fingers had so easily slipped beneath the hem to rest on his bare skin was accidental or not.
Hao manages to lose Hanbin in what he hopes is a perfectly natural manner, slipping between the thrum of bodies and escaping into the kitchen. He makes sure to find Matthew on his way, pulling him into a brief hug and wishing him a belated birthday before the two of them are pulled apart by some of Matthew’s other well-meaning friends.
The kitchen counters are littered with bottles and cans of various colours and brands, some already reaped dry while others remain sealed. Someone Hao vaguely recognises as a fellow performer from the winter concert waves him in, handing him a vivid blue jello-shot which is most likely 90% alcohol and 10% jello. Hao drinks up anyway.
He must take somewhere between three and four (he can’t quite tell the exact amount because he thinks he remembers spitting half of one glass out at some point) shots over the course of maybe five minutes. It’s only been about twenty minutes and Hao can safely say that his first goal of the night has already been achieved.
It’s surprisingly easy to avoid Hanbin, Hao finds, when it's so dark and there are so many people that Hao would probably mistake his own reflection for another stranger. He finds Gyuvin at one point who offers him another can of something sweet and distinctively alcoholic, but even they quickly lose each other to the crowd.
Hao can’t pinpoint quite how long he’s been at the party when he locks eyes with someone who may just be the perfect candidate for the second part of his night’s criteria.
Cha Eunwoo is tall and handsome and stares at Hao with such intensity that it’s inevitable that the two would find each other.
“You’re gorgeous.” Are the first words that tumble from Hao’s lips once they reach one another, staring in awe at Eunwoo’s features as they blur and morph in his drunken haze.
Eunwoo smiles, and it's not quite as sharp or as bright as the one Hao wishes it was, but it's pretty nonetheless, “You’re quite the sight yourself.”
And once Hao starts touching, he cannot stop.
Whether it's a hand on Eunwoo’s wrist or Hao’s whole chest draped across his back, Hao is drowning in the feeling of it all. He leans in close to whisper nonsense in Eunwoo’s ear, dragging his lips from his cheek to the very corner of his lips, but never going any further, painfully teasing.
And Hao knows it's working too, because the more Hao plays into this game, the more Eunwoo seems to crack, his inhibitions breaking down.
At some point, the two of them end up in the living room, squished together on the couch with Hao practically sitting atop of Eunwoo’s lap. They’re teasing and joking, faces a little too close to one another for such a public setting, and Eunwoo has tried to lean in to steal a kiss more than once already, but Hao keeps dodging his lips.
“Someone’s eager?” He chuckles, tapping a coy finger against Eunwoo’s chest.
He receives an exasperated sigh in response, “You’re going to be the death of me. How about I get us some drinks?” He offers, already rising from the couch, “Wait right here.”
Hao watches as Eunwoo fades into the mass of bodies, but finds himself letting out an agitated huff once he’s finally out of sight.
He’d really thought that he’d feel more than just this .
Sure, it’s fun, Eunwoo’s perfectly nice, and Hao’s having a good time, but there’s still something missing from it all, like an itch Hao just can’t quite scratch.
A few minutes pass and Eunwoo has yet to return and Hao finds himself growing impatient. With another long sigh, he himself gets up off the couch and follows the trail he’d seen Eunwoo take towards the kitchen.
However, Hao doesn’t even make it to the kitchen before a pair of hands wrap around him from behind, stopping him in his tracks. He turns his head expecting to find Eunwoo, but it’s Hanbin’s face that greets him, staring straight through him with a stern expression, brows furrowed. Hao should have known that the static that buzzed down his spine at the contact wouldn’t have been from Eunwoo…
“What are you doing?” Hanbin says, spinning Hao around to properly face him. The movement jostles whoever had been standing beside them, which leads to Hao stumbling forwards into Hanbin’s chest, the two of them almost losing their balance for an uneasy moment.
Hao tries to ignore the way Hanbin’s hands tighten to stabilise them. He really tries.
“What am I doing?” Hao repeats his question, their faces suddenly much closer than before, neither of them having moved apart, “I’m enjoying the party.”
“I’ve seen you,” Hanbin says, but doesn’t elaborate. It feels like the words carry more of a weight to them than what Hanbin is letting on, “But we’ve barely hung out. Join me, yeah?”
“Oh, but I’m waiting for-”
Hanbin is quick to interrupt, “He won’t mind.”
Once again, Hao finds himself being spun around, Hanbin moving to guide him through the masses, a hand still firm on Hao’s waist and the other extended out to separate the bodies like flowing water. Hao easily slots into Hanbin’s side, the two of them pressed together from shoulder to hip.
Hanbin leads them upstairs where less people are congregating and the pummel of the bass isn’t quite so forceful. There’s a small nook in the very corner between a bookshelf and what Hao knows is Matthew's locked bedroom door and before he knows it, Hanbin is backing the two of them into that very spot.
Before Hao ends up walking face first into the wall, he turns around in Hanbin’s grip, letting his back hit the hard surface. He takes a hold of each of Hanbin’s forearms, trailing his fingers down until they reach his hands. It's the most touch he’s initiated in months. “Is everything okay?”
Hanbin visibly droops, adjusting his hands to press his and Hao’s palms together, “Why do you keep doing this to me, Hao?”
Hao blinks up at him, surprised, croaking out a weak, “What?”
“They all look like me. Each and every one of them, Hao, they all look like me.” Hanbin seems to deflate with every word, sounding almost desperate, and all Hao can do is stare at him in horror. His lips part, gaping at him, but he finds himself unable to formulate words, “You didn’t think I’d notice?”
“Hanbin-”
“The guy downstairs, the one you were hooking up with just two months ago, that guy we ran into at the cafe, the one from the concert, fuck , even that guy from that party that Ricky showed me photos of.” Hanbin lists off one after the other and Hao’s world seems to be crumbling from beneath his feet, “Please, you can’t tell me that it’s all just a coincidence.”
Hao hopes the way his lip wobbles isn’t obvious, his voice cracking as he lets out a breathless, “I’m so sorry.” To which Hanbin stills, “God, I’m so sorry.”
He takes in a long deep breath before continuing to speak, the words rushing out of him in a panicked blur, “I really thought that I could just get over it, I really did, I didn’t mean for it to get this serious, and I definitely didn’t mean for you to find out-” Hao knows he’s barely making any sense, but the words just keep spilling out, “I didn’t want to ruin what we have, or creep you out, but I completely understand if you’re disgusted or think it’s weird or-”
“I just don’t understand…” Hanbin cuts him off just as he’s about to take another choked breath, “Hao, they’re all just a mirror image of me-”
Hao fears that if Hanbin keeps talking, he really might just burst into tears, “I know, and I’m sorry!”
“-But I’m right here.”